Property of Fox (Mayhem Makers: Bastard Boilers MC)

7. Brea

brEA

I drift in and out of a dream, the kind where you feel as if you’re a spectator in your own subconscious, whispering secrets I can’t quite grasp. The room is enveloped in darkness that feels heavy but safe. My heart beats slowly, lulled by the comfort of being away from Tank.

But it all shifts when a voice pierces through my slumber like a shard of glass. “Brea?” It calls again softly, more insistent this time.

“Are you alive in there?” Keira’s voice calls from the other side of the bedroom door.

Kiera's voice is bright yet layered with concern.

“I am now,” I mutter groggily forcing myself upright. I instantly reach for my phone but realize it’s long dead back in Indiana. The light spills in, golden and relentless. Jesus, what time is it for the sun to be that bright in the morning?

“Do I need to call in a welfare check?”

“I said I’m awake,” I grumble.

“And you’re grumpy,” Keira fires back at me. “I made lunch. Sounds like you need it, Hangry.”

I throw my legs from the bed and finally plant my feet on the floor, feeling the chill of the wood.

“Give me a second to feel human again,” I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I shuffle toward the door.

“Take all the time you need!” she calls back, her words peppered with laughter.

The sound pulls a reluctant smile onto my face as I run a hand through my tangled hair. I catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection of a nearby mirror. My hair frizzing like a helicopter rotor gone rogue. Nice going, Brea.

Grabbing a hair tie from the bedside table, I hastily tie my hair into a loose bun to keep it from looking as chaotic as my thoughts. Every moment spent here feels like it pulls me further away from everything back home—the stress of Mom at her worst, Tank slinging his unwanted opinions about my life like they were badges of honor. The thought prickles at the edges of my mind as I open the door to join Kiera.

She stands with her back to me at the small kitchen counter, dressed in high-waisted jeans and a vintage band tee that clings to her curves.

“What time is it?” I ask, shuffling towards the rustic dining table in the corner of the kitchen.

“Two o’clock.”

“In the afternoon?”

“Considering it’s sunny and not dark, yes.”

“Good grief, I slept half the day away,” I mutter, moving towards the counter as the scent of crispy bacon wraps around me like a warm hug.

Kiera scoffs. “You needed it. Another couple nights of good sleep and you might look human again.” I watch as Keira grabs a plate next to her and shovels on a heap of crispy bacon with some toast before she shuffles over and puts it in front of me. “Eat up.”

I tear into the bacon, noticing the lack of a second plate for Keira. “You aren’t eating?”

“I ate a while ago. Still on my school schedule even with the time change,” she shrugs. Kiera plops down across from me, her gaze sharpening like a blade drawn from its sheath. “So… I was thinking,” she announces, leaning forward with an exaggerated intensity that raises my brow. “Do you realize what today is?”

“Um, Friday?”

“Yes, smartass. But what is so special about the date?”

“You’re going to have to help me out, Keira. I’m not awake enough to follow where you’re going with this.”

“You’re no fun,” she scoffs. “B, tomorrow is the Motorcycles, Mobsters, and Mayhem signing…and we’re already in Dallas. We should go.”

“I don’t know. We only just got here and with Tank…”

“Fuck, Tank,” she exclaims, throwing up her arms dramatically. “Brea, we didn’t just drive hundreds of miles away from all of that for you to stay cooped up in this house.”

“But.”

“No buts!” Kiera insists, her green eyes fierce like emeralds glinting under the sun's rays. “We’ve been talking about going for months. You’re free now. Live a little, B. This can be your first adventure of your new life. What better way to celebrate than with books and hot guys? You’ve been on a dry spell for years, babe. Let’s get you dusted off.”

“Jesus, Keira. You’re talking like I am a virgin waiting to be sacrificed to the book model gods.” I laugh at the thought.

“Would that be such a bad way to go?” she fires back. “Seriously. We’re here. I still have the tickets. You owe it to yourself to have some fun for once.”

“Ugh, why do you have to make this so difficult?” I groan, shoving more food into my mouth just to buy myself a moment to think. It’s all too tempting. Still a part of me shivers at the thought of reckless abandon.

“Fine,” I finally concede, letting out a resigned sigh.

Kiera’s face lights up like she’s just won the lottery. “Yes! You won’t regret it, I promise. Maybe some handsome biker will sweep you off your feet.” She waggles her eyebrows exaggeratedly.

I can’t help but snicker. “I highly doubt any man is interested in a book nerd like me.”

“I think you underestimate yourself,” Kiera shoots back. “You’re gorgeous, Brea! And don’t you dare forget it.”

“Yeah. Right.” I take another bite of bacon, savoring both its taste and Kiera’s extravagant compliment.

“Alright then,” Kiera announces, jumping up from her seat in that exuberant way she always does. Her hair flows behind her like silk ribbons caught in the wind. She reaches forward and snatches my plate.

“I was still eating that,” I protest, trying to take it back from her.

“Too bad. We have too much to do to get ready for the signing.”

“The book signing is tomorrow. We have plenty of time to get ready,” I say, reaching for my plate again, only for Keira to pull it farther away.

“Um, hello, the welcome party is tonight. We're not missing that. And you know what that means,” Kiera chirps excitedly as she transfers the plate to a nearby counter. “We need outfits. We’re not going to show up looking like we just rolled out of bed.”

“Outfits? This isn’t prom.” I retort, slightly confused. It’s just a book signing. Why would we need fancy clothes for that?

“No, it’s better,” she beams. “My aunt has some amazing vintage pieces in her closet upstairs. There’s got to be something in there that we can wear to make a statement.”

I watch her bolt up the stairs, her energy infectious, pulling me along whether I want to or not. My initial resistance starts to fade, replaced by an unexplainable pull. Perhaps it was the thought of combining leather jackets with the intoxicating smell of new books that got me buzzing inside.

With a half-hearted groan, I follow her footsteps. Kiera stands in front of the closet, throwing open the doors like a magician revealing a secret stash of treasures. Dresses hang in a riot of colors.

“Here! This one!” she squeals as she holds up an emerald green dress. She tosses it at me and moves to dig further into the depths of her aunt's fashion vault.

I hold the dress against me, admiring how it pops against my pale skin. “What makes you think that’ll even fit? I’m way taller than you.”

“You’ll make it work,” she declares with a wink. “You’ve got the height for it. We just need to show off those gorgeous legs.”

"Legs that have been trapped in jeans for far too long," I counter but can’t help smiling at her enthusiasm.

Moments later, Kiera surfaces from the closet with an oversized leather jacket slung over one arm. “And this will complete your outfit,” she announces triumphantly.

“You seriously think I can pull this off?” My confidence starts to dwindle again.

“Absolutely! You’ll look fierce, like a badass bookworm who fell out of my fashion fantasy,” Kiera retorts, draping the jacket around my shoulders. “Trust me, Brea. Just try it on. You’re about to unleash a whole new side of yourself. Now about the shoes. I’m thinking heels.” Keira dives into the bottom of her aunt’s closet and pulls out a black pair of pumps, tossing them to me. “You should be about the same size.”

With an eye roll and the sense that arguing further would be futile against her sheer enthusiasm, I head towards the mirror. I strip from my pajamas and slip the dress over my head before I shrug into the oversized jacket. The shoes are a little big, but I can make them work for a few hours.

Kiera claps from behind me, her excitement infectious. “See? You look incredible! This is the new you. Fun, flirty, free.”

I turn sideways in the mirror and study my reflection closely for signs of transformation. The longer I look, the clearer it becomes that this version of me is bold and unashamedly alive—not bound by guilt or fear.

“We need some killer accessories,” Kiera says, grabbing my wrist and pulling me away from the mirror.

We rummage through her aunt’s shelves filled with odds and ends. I can’t help but think about how much has changed in just a few short hours. It feels like every corner I turn leads me closer to something bigger.

Kiera digs deeper into the eclectic array of mismatched items, her excitement bubbling over with each new discovery. “Here we go!” she exclaims, holding up a silver cuff bracelet adorned with intricate designs that sparkle in the light. “This screams you, Brea. Edgy yet elegant. Perfect for the biker vibe we're going for!”

I take the bracelet from her and turn it over in my hands, admiring the craftsmanship. “It’s beautiful. I’ll take it.” Somehow, as I clasp it around my wrist, an unfamiliar sense of confidence flows through me.

Kiera is already digging into another box, pulling out a choker that looked like it belonged to a rock star from the ‘80s. “This will add just the right amount of sass,” she said, wrapping it around my neck while adjusting it carefully. The leather feels cool against my skin, and I hardly recognized the person staring back at me in the mirror.

“Okay, maybe this is more fun than I thought,” I admit, letting a smile creep onto my lips.

“Just wait until you see your hair!” Kiera laughs as she begins to pull out brushes and products from a shelf lined with beauty essentials. The earnest look in her eyes warms me. She wants this to be perfect for me. And, so do I.